


bring me heat, bring me fire

by kurifurinkan



Category: Inazuma Eleven GO
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 19:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3146198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurifurinkan/pseuds/kurifurinkan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight is Fifth Sector's presentation to the world, a show of their strength and their unstoppable power. You, and your team-- you are the jewel in Fifth Sector's crown. </p><p>You've never felt so unable to breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bring me heat, bring me fire

Your hand doesn't shake when you apply the lipgloss in the mirror. You thought it might-- your stomach is churning, distantly, and if you'd eaten you'd feel queasy-- but your face remains still and cool, your hands moving with surgeon-like precision. You barely recognize your own face in the mirror, this serene beauty with long-lashed eyes and glittered cheekbones, hair in a tumbling updo that took three hours to craft. 

Tentatively, you try a smile. Your reflection bares its teeth, and you shudder, glance away quickly. Behind you, the bathroom is still empty. 

Tonight is Fifth Sector's presentation to the world, a show of their strength and their unstoppable power. You, and your team-- you are the jewel in Fifth Sector's crown. You've never felt so unable to breathe. 

Outside, the ready room hums with muted activity. Your team collects in clusters around the edges, voices low discomfited buzzes. You pause by one, turning to Koizaki and lifting her chin. "Head up," you remind her. She meets your eyes, nodding, pale lips already tugging down miserably. Her hands are chilled where she grips yours. The black eye is almost perfectly covered. If you hadn't known it was there, you wouldn't see it at all. 

Tsutsumi's date has already arrived. She already looks ready to break her own ankle or more likely her date's, in order to escape-- but her training is holding good, and both she and-- who was it? Gotou, you recall distantly, a tall girl with a pale wrapped braid and equally pale sleek column of a dress, are standing next to one another, faces blank and almost perfectly schooled. 

Not as schooled as that of the girl in the far corner, though-- of course not, a dry part of your mind whispers. You've known how far that pokerface can go. Masaki refolds her arms across her chest, standing foreboding in a narrow-lapeled suit, and the rest of your breath leaves you, very quietly, punched out in a soundless exhale. You want, more than you want anything, to go over there, bury your face in her dark-clad shoulder, breathe in her familiar liquorice and blackberry scent, fix her skinny tie where it's just a hair too slack. Of course no one would have seen that except you. Foolishness, to do that, and you know it. You teeter on your own heels, fractionally. Who must she be going with? you wonder, detachedly, through the buzzing in your ears, through the pulled-tight laces of your dress. Nine, it must be nine, since that's your number, and you-- 

Seitei touches your elbow. You start-- you hadn't heard her coming, and you've advanced a step forward you don't recall taking. You turn to look at her, startled, and her hand tightens on your arm. She's not directly meeting your gaze. "You're pale, Kurosaki," she says, in response to your stupid-stunned stare. She looks over her own shoulder, addressing someone-- "Can you get her a drink, please?" before you can even react, muster a defense, protest that you're fine. Seitei can see right through it, but it's not as though appearances don't count. You of all people know that more than anybody. Her eyes flicker over you, assessingly. Even now, despite everything, that look makes you straighten your shoulders, stand as tall as you possibly can, folding your own private regrets, your ugly, messy, knotted emotions deep into your belly, pushing them down. Seitei needs you. 

She nods, once. You'd relax, but you know better now than to do that. She glances over her shoulder again, and her face doesn't flicker at all, but her hand tightens on your arm again, cautionary. Be careful, Seitei is saying. The next moment, she's gone. 

A glass, full and sweating with condensation, is thrust into your sightline. You follow the line of the suit-clad arm, into the eyes of your date. Senguuji Yamako stares back, lips quirked. Quietly, the last bit of hope you had when you saw the dark colour of her suit crumbles and disappears. You can see yourself reflected in her eyes, your piled-high hair, your made-up, unfamiliar face, your metallic bronze-copper gown with the plunging neckline and too-tight lacing. You look about twenty-five, not fourteen. You're also as white as a sheet. She steps closer, crowding into your personal space, pressing the glass into your hand, broad shoulders blocking you from the eyes of the rest of the room. Dimly, you find it within you to be grateful for that. 

Her eyes rake you. "Someone's made an effort," she says, low, amused. Her painted mouth quirks again. It's far too close to yours. She's wearing her mother's lipstick, a dark slash. It makes her look old, you think, with a sudden flash of meanness. It doesn't suit her at all. You should tell her so. To cover the urge, you take a sip of your drink, and don't let your face display your sudden startlement. Whatever this is Yamako has given you, it's definitely not water. You drain it regardless, meet her eyes calmly, set it down with a very quiet click, hold her gaze. She grins, sudden and sharp, a flash of teeth, but whatever she's about to say is drowned in a sudden increase of the murmurs around you, a shuffling of feet-- time to assemble. You can sense your team gathering behind you. You don't even have to look. 

Yamako holds out a hand, meets your eyes. Suddenly, you're overwhelmed, quietly, by an intense wash of gratefulness for this girl, what she means. You can't go out there alone, but neither can she. You can be necessary. You know, nearly better than anything, how to do what is required of you. 

You can't see Masaki at all. You've gotten completely turned around. You can't see anything beyond Yamako's broad shoulders, in any case, and there's no more time to lose. There's something here that you have to do, and you have no time to have any regrets. 

You lift your head and you take her hand and you go out there and you _blaze._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Metric's "Torture Me"
> 
> _Bring me heat, bring me fire_  
>  _One backless, strapless copper-thread gown_  
>  _Kiddy, kiddy, catch one_  
>  _Bring turpentine, I can't stand by high street, fight the bland_  
>  _I've got to bite the hand_  
>  _So if I find peace of mind, torture me_  
>  _If I seem too serene, torture me_
> 
> This has been sitting in my files for a year and a half now, waiting for a title, so I'm glad to have found one. Please give me more Seitei-centric stuff where he's interacting with his own team uwa


End file.
